


Heart Eyes

by Snowy38



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blind!Harry, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Jealouis, Kissing Cupboard, M/M, Pining, Protective Louis, Virgin Harry, not much smut, virginity for sale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 15:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy38/pseuds/Snowy38
Summary: He fidgeted nervously, long fingers pushed through his soft fringe, fingertips lingering on the thick curls that he felt formed there. He hoped his hair looked okay. He hoped he looked okay.He hoped-“Oi oi!” Niall’s loud, Irish voice cut into the small space along with the loud chatter of the party; the door assumingly opened. He swallowed.“Fuck off!” A northern accent complained; the sound of bodies wrestling before it went quiet again; the clunk of the lock confirming to him that his suitor was now locked inside.Harry knew the voice. He knew. And if he hadn’t known the voice, he would have known the smoky, sweet scent of the boy before him. Seventeen years old, friends since they were eight, and they’d never been pushed into the kissing cupboard together before.





	Heart Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All
> 
> As always, my heartfelt thanks and appreciation to everyone who gives me kudos or a comment; I love hearing from you.  
> Thanks to Sammi and Emma for editing :)
> 
> Ang

 

 

 

 

The kissing cupboard wasn’t a place that Harry Styles was used to visiting.

 

Crammed into the dark; slim waist fitting easily between the shelves but the elbows of his long arms banging the sides of the space clumsily; he waited; nervous breath pulled into his lungs.

 

Who would be put in there with him? Would it be someone he knew? Or some poor, forced stranger pushed in and locked up for the required thirteen minutes that the game lasted for?

 

He fidgeted nervously, long fingers pushed through his soft fringe, fingertips lingering on the thick curls that he felt formed there. He hoped his hair looked okay. He hoped _he_ looked okay.

 

He hoped-

 

“Oi oi!” Niall’s loud, Irish voice cut into the small space along with the loud chatter of the party; the door assumingly opened. He swallowed.

 

“Fuck off!” A northern accent complained; the sound of bodies wrestling before it went quiet again; the clunk of the lock confirming to him that his suitor was now locked inside.

 

Harry knew the voice. He knew. And if he hadn’t known the voice, he would have known the smoky, sweet scent of the boy before him. Seventeen years old, friends since they were eight, and they’d never been pushed into the kissing cupboard together before.

 

_Why now?_

 

“Er…where are you?” Louis’ voice called carefully into the peacefulness, his hands soon grasping the front of Harry’s shirt in his journey to find him, blindfolds mandatory for the game although Harry didn’t understand why when he could identify almost every person in the room by their voice or their smell alone.

 

“You found me,” he mused softly, voice deep.

 

He had considered playing coy, letting Louis discover him by feel alone. But it was too tempting to reassure him and offer comfort. Harry had always had that urge.

 

“Curly?” Louis asked, voice raspy with the smoke he had no doubt been inhaling. Harry had been nagging him to quit but he seemed to indulge only in social gatherings now; he didn’t smoke around Harry anymore.

 

Before Harry could hum out an affirmative ‘Mmm-hmm’, Louis’ fingers were pushing into his fringe, grasping lightly and twisting up so that the curve of the pronounced curl brushed into his palm. Harry felt his knees weaken, breath pushing out in a soft sound that he hoped Louis didn’t hear. 

 

Harry’s heart was beating so hard in his chest it was all he could hear; the crazy thump, thump with the occasional mis-beat and galloping after; a sign of his feelings for the boy crowded in front of him. A sign that his mouth hadn’t shaped into words yet.

 

When Harry’s ears stopped roaring, he made out the quiet muttering from Louis.

 

“Gonna kill Niall later,” he made out, listening as Louis shifted.

 

His stomach constricted fearfully, Louis’ body now too far away from his because... did that mean Louis wouldn’t kiss him? That he maybe didn’t want to? He opened his mouth to form Louis’ name on his lips, but he startled as a warm, small body pressed into his again, small hands cupping his cheeks and lips brushing his quickly; as though the movement had been one fluid sweep of sudden courage. Maybe it was. Harry didn’t have the courage to kiss anybody; let alone the only person who he could see through the dark without looking.

 

His breath hitched and he softened; tilting his head and shuffling his feet to better position himself to receive Louis’ kiss; his tongue flicking out uncertainly as Louis opened their mouths wider. He looped his arms around Louis’ waist and squeezed until Louis made a noise in his throat; his lips slowing to a gentle caress; breaking and coming back when Harry pouted; brows furrowed.

 

The truth was, Harry didn’t need a blindfold. Louis was his sun in his darkened world but it was dark all of the time. Because Harry was blind. And that was why he never got to play the kissing games or anything like it because everyone figured he was too delicate; too broken to take part.

 

The truth was; Harry only wanted to play with one boy. But that boy was far, far out of his reach. 

 

// 

 

Louis had never kissed him again after the cupboard. They’d never talked about it and Harry had chalked it down to a drunken dare; something Louis had gamely taken up with alcohol for courage and the threat of his pride if he didn’t say yes.

 

He’d gone on in life, content with Louis’ friendship but secretly harbouring his love. Maybe Louis wasn’t ready to be loved, yet. Maybe he was afraid? Harry could wait. He could wait forever if he needed to.

 

// 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Harold?” Niall asked, sitting beside Harry on the sofa so that their thighs brushed. 

 

Harry’s dog, Dennis, was obediently resting beside him; Harry’s fingers grooming through his fur. “Yes,” Harry answered with a nod.

 

He was twenty-one now and his love-life was in shambles. He had the odd date; shared awkward kisses and came home smelling of strange after-shave and feeling guilty about comparing every single one of his dates to Louis, but nobody came close, so far. He couldn’t stay a virgin forever. Somebody had to pop his cherry.

 

“Auction, though?” Niall snorted. “Surely you can put out an ad for this kind of thing and vet the applicants…”

 

Harry shook his head, nerves squiggling through his body.

 

“It’s not like I can judge them on their looks,” he pointed out. “And it’s more about getting past the first awkward time so that I feel confident,” he expressed.

 

Harry heard Niall close the laptop he was using to post Harry’s auction.

 

“Harry, mate...it’s better with someone you like, if I’m honest,” he murmured.

 

“You slept with half the cheerleading team in college,” Harry accused with a sigh. “And then most of the girls in your office when you started as an intern…”

 

Niall choked out a laugh.

 

“That doesn’t mean you have to be an idiot about this!” Niall argued. “You’re different, Haz. You like being close to someone. I don’t.”

 

“I don’t want to-” he stopped the lie before it formed in full, a reluctant sigh leaving his lips. 

 

“Mm-hmm,” Niall hummed knowingly, booting up the computer. Harry heard the fan start up.

 

“Alright, I’m not going to deny it would be _nice_ if I had someone special to share it with,” he ventured. “Maybe I’ll get to know the person and it won’t be awful,” he hoped.

 

“See, even you think it’s going to be awful,” Niall accused. 

 

“No, I just think-” Harry paused, swallowing hard. He couldn’t air his exact thoughts because Niall didn’t know. Nobody knew. Nobody except him and his sweet mother knew about his feelings for Louis.

 

“Why don’t you just talk to Louis?” Niall asked then, his words causing Harry’s brow to furrow.

 

Because how did Niall--?

 

“Why would I do that?” he feigned ignorance.

 

Niall actually laughed. Loud enough to make Harry startle.

 

“Because it’s him you really want to win this fucking prize,” Niall mused. “Or are you going to pretend that isn’t true, either?”

 

Harry flicked his half-lidded gaze away, teeth sinking into his lip. He wondered what he looked like, sometimes. Whether his eyes were at odd angles; whether they were a nice colour and focused on the person he was trying to look at. He wondered if his hair was too wild; if his stubble was uneven and if his teeth were crooked. They didn’t feel crooked but he could have food stuck between them and never really know.

 

Louis had once told him his eyes were like a foggy morning in the woods; a murky green but beautiful. He’d puckered his lips for a kiss-- Louis tipsy on beer that night-- but the kiss had glanced lightly off his cheek, pointedly avoiding his lips. After that, Harry had tried to hold himself together; his insides feeling like they wanted to spill out and land on the ground with his heart.

 

His eyes weren’t pretty enough to seduce Louis into kissing him. Neither were his lips, apparently. He didn’t have much else, just long, lean limbs and a quirky dress sense (borne mostly from not being able to match his clothes rather than being innately fashionable).

 

“I want to do this,” Harry assured his friend stubbornly, his heart kicking up an irregular rhythm that sent a burning flush over his body. _Anxiety_         . He _did_ want to have sex. But he wouldn’t have chosen to sell himself under normal circumstances.

 

He needed the money as much as he craved the experience. He had attended a prestigious music school that developed his talent despite his ability, but getting work was hard. His apartment was subsidised; his mother helped him with bills, but he needed high-tech equipment to build his profile. Everyone in the business had their own automated song-writing recording equipment and editing suites, and Harry needed all of those with additional features to make up for his lack of sight.

 

The money would definitely be useful.

 

“Okay, what do you want me to say?” Niall sat, fingers posed over the keyboard.

 

Harry took a deep breath and began to talk.

 

 // 

 

“What’s this?” Louis had torn off a chunk of his hotdog, sat among a buzzing crowd at the football game Niall had dragged him to.

 

Louis liked football, he couldn’t deny that, but it was Saturday afternoon and Harry liked to take Dennis for a walk in the park and Louis liked to just walk with him. Often Harry was quiet, other times he spoke so many words that Louis couldn’t process them all; but those moments were fleeting and all the more precious because of their rarity.

 

He took a grip on the iPad Niall shoved at him.

“Why’d you bring this?” His confused blue eyes slid to Niall’s.

 

“Have a look,” he lifted his chin, shoving his own hotdog messily into his mouth without chewing. 

 

Louis watched him with a faintly disgusted look. His focused his gaze onto the small screen, the sun making the graphics faint. He pulled it closer, squinting and tilting the screen to make out the web-page opened on it.

 

“Are you joining a dating site?” Louis queried, peering closer. “Didn’t think you needed help in that area,” he murmured.

 

“Not me,” Niall shot at him, mouth full of half-eaten hot-dog. A globule landed on the sleeve of Louis’ denim jacket.

 

He gave Niall a cool, accusing glance.

 

“Watch the spit, Irish,” Louis complained.

 

“Just read the fucking ad, Lou,” Niall rolled his eyes.

 

“Virgin for sale… Innocent English Rose for the plucking,” Louis narrated.

 

Niall snorted beside him.

 

“Starting at a bid of five thousand pounds, I am selling my virginity to the highest bidder. This isn’t a joke or a fraud; I have spent my whole life wondering what it’s like to go all the way and now I’m putting myself up for auction. Things you need to know: I am blind-“

 

Louis stopped talking aloud, brows furrowing as his eyes travelled over the remaining words; lips stunned into silence.

 

_Things you need to know: I am blind. Patience is key, but I can do everything that any other guy can do if you give me the chance. I’ve kissed a few frogs but I’m searching for my Prince. Genuine bids only, please._

Louis felt his hotdog threaten to reappear.

 

“Niall,” he spoke slowly, hands beginning to quiver. “Is this what I think it is?”

 

“Uh-huh,” his friend nodded, his gaze already out on the field where the players were warming up, blue eyes hidden beneath his sunglasses.

 

“You posted this as a sick joke?” He demanded. “You think it’s funny?”

 

Niall turned, brows rising bemusedly.

 

“Harry fucking posted it,” he defended.

 

“We both know he hasn’t mastered his voice activated software properly, yet,” Louis stated calmly-- far more calmly than his insides felt; thrashing over each other in instant opposition to the very idea of Harry selling himself online to some- some _pervert_.

 

“Alright, I posted it,” Niall adjusted. “Technically. But I tried to talk him out of it,” he added. “He narrated the whole thing to me, I swear…”

 

“You tried to-“ Louis huffed, indignation coursing through him. “Why the fuck is he doing this anyway?” Louis demanded. “Has he lost his fucking mind?”

 

“Wants a fuck,” Niall shrugged. “Not that complicated.”

 

Louis stilled, blue eyes sheening over with an emotion that Niall apparently couldn’t fathom as he stared back at him.

 

“He can’t just fuck any idiot who chooses to pay five grand for the pleasure!” Louis objected, stuffing the iPad against Niall’s chest. “This is fucking outrageous,” he added, bending to pick up his things.

 

“Hey, Tommo,” Niall complained. “Where you going? The game hasn’t even started yet!”

 

“I’m going home,” Louis muttered, storming up the steps towards the nearest exit.

 // 

 

There were only three people who had a key to Harry’s apartment: his Mum, in case of an emergency; Louis because well, _Louis_ ; and Niall in case Louis wasn’t available should Harry need assistance.

 

When he heard the key slide into the lock, he could predict who was coming in from how they opened his door, even before they called out.

 

His Mum would twist the key slightly before getting it to rotate in the slot; Niall would surge the door open, often rebounding the entire door off the back wall (which now boasted an impact dent from his efforts); and then there was Louis: gentle and quiet, like he might wake Harry up with such a tiny movement.

 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when soft footfall sounded against the carpet, no greeting called cheerily out like usual. His breath hitched in his chest when he sensed the movement come closer, praying that it was Louis and not someone who’d stolen his key and beaten Louis to get his address.

 

“Hey, Curly.”

 

Harry stilled as Louis’ fingers slid into his hair, fingertips rubbing his scalp slightly.

 

“Hey,” he managed with a thick throat.

 

He’d been expecting his visit. He knew Niall would spill the beans on his new venture and he knew, deep down, that Louis would be hurt that Harry hadn’t told him. He knew all of that and he had done it anyway because part of his sore heart wanted Louis to hurt, too. Even if he didn’t think that was possible. How could Louis hurt if he didn’t feel anything for Harry? Only his ego would be smarting because Harry chose Niall to confide in over his best friend.

 

Louis sighed; Harry listened for movement and felt Louis drop into the seat beside him, keys laid gently on the wooden coffee-table so as not to startle him. Louis had learned those things as they’d grown up together. Things like avoiding making loud noises; not to do everything for Harry and only to help when asked; not to guide him unless he could see he might fall. Louis was better at it than most of Harry’s friends.

 

He heard the little jangle of Dennis’s collar as he surged up to greet the new visitor, resettling beside Louis’ knee.

 

“What’s going on?” Louis asked and his voice sounded raw and honest.

 

Harry blinked over his cloudy eyes.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Louis’ sigh sounded irritated this time.

 

“The website, Harry,” he clarified. “You know what I mean.”

 

Harry felt something hit him solidly in the chest, but no physical force was present. _Fuck_. What had he done? What was he even thinking? He had to take the ad down, he had to-

 

“Why the fuck would a smart, good-looking guy like you think that he needed to sell himself?” Louis asked, voice tighter now, bitter at the edges.

 

Harry felt him shift and sensed him resting on the edge of the seat, twisting to stare at him. He swallowed.

 

“I need some equipment for work,” he offered, knowing the excuse was weak. “And you know…I’ve never fucked anyone so I thought that-“

 

“You thought what?” Louis cut him off, voice strengthening.

 

Harry dipped his chin, fiddling with his fingers.

 

“I thought that this was a fun way to do it,” he finished quietly.

 

Louis launched up of the sofa and Harry frowned, eyes moving to find him and coming up blank. His ears took over the search.

 

“Sex isn’t meant to be sold, Harry,” his voice drifted over from near the window; Dennis mooching about the carpet, apparently torn between the two men. “Not your first go at it, at least,” he added.

 

 “Why not?” Harry challenged back, pushing himself out of his seat. 

 

“Because it’s fucking sacred,” Louis bit out. “Your body…giving it away. You’re meant to give it to someone who _earned_ it, Harry. To someone who _deserves_  it,” he added emphatically.

 

“How do you know that the highest bidder won’t have earned it?” He batted back. “They might be a Doctor or a Fireman or someone who takes his time to make it special for me.”

 

Louis’ derisive snort had Harry’s back straightening indignantly.

 

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” he spoke softly, like he was afraid of the impact of his words.

 

“No, that’s right, you didn’t,” Louis’ cool, dismissive tone held far more clues than Harry could ever hope to see on his face if he was able to see it. The tiny quiver of his undertone; the almost painful twist of his silent accusation. “But I’m your best friend so you’ll get it anyway,” he countered.

 

“This is what I want to do, Louis. And you can’t stop me!” He fisted his hands, taking a deep breath to calm the dragons breathing fire in his belly. 

 

He had too many people telling him to be cautious his whole life. _Be careful Harry. Watch out Harry._ _Don’t do that, Harry._ Not anymore. Now he could do exactly as he wanted with nobody to tell him no. And even if they told him no, he was capable of making decisions to go ahead anyway. He didn’t need anyone’s approval.        

 

The silence was louder than the jack-hammering of his heart; his ears straining to make out the noises another human made; his head tilting to the side to listen for breathing. It was there, slow and measured, but a flurry of movement broke the pattern.

 

“Fine, go ahead and make the biggest mistake of your life!” Louis shouted. “Don’t expect me to sit here and watch, though!”

 

“Good, I don’t want you to! Not if you’re going to be like this about it!” Harry yelled back, chasing into the hall to ensure Louis was leaving.

 

“Think I might just go and stand on the street corner, actually!” Louis spat acidly. “Prostitution seems to be in right now…”

 

“You don’t fucking get it, do you? You dick!” Harry cast the words angrily down the hall, unsure of Louis’ progress. The latch of the front door slipping signalled his whereabouts. “You can have sex with whoever you want,” Harry continued in a shaky voice. “Whenever you want. I don’t get to do that; nobody wants to deal with a guy who can’t fucking see,” he bit out heavily.

 

Louis took three steps back into the hall and Harry’s heart fluttered in last-ditch hope.

 

“The defining point here is that I _don’t_ have sex with just _anybody_ ,” Louis cast, a whisper of accusing venom. “I only sleep with people I _like_ ,” he added, twisting away and slamming the door as Harry yelled “Good for you!” at the top of his lungs.

 // 

 

Zayn walked into the new coffee-lounge which had just opened and had already been largely overtaken by his four best friends. He sauntered up to the scattered group of males-- Niall laid back on the sofa with his legs hanging over the arm, playing on a game-boy, Harry beside him reading a book in braille, while Liam was squeezed into a large arm-chair with Louis.

 

He blinked, looking between the men pointedly.

 

“What’s going on, boys?”

 

Liam looked up from his phone with a distracted frown, his face smoothing into a fond smile upon recognition.

 

“Hey buddy!” He beamed.

 

Zayn snorted.

 

“Why’s Harry there and Louis over there?” He pointed to the two men in question, not shy about asking the awkward question outright.

 

He had become so used to seeing the pair of them sitting together, Harry often draped over Louis’ lap or Louis’ legs tucked between Harry’s thighs, that it was instantly jarring to find them separated.

 

“I wouldn’t ask, mate,” Niall piped up, lifting himself to twist into a sitting position to make room. “Sit here if you want…”

 

Zayn flicked his eyes to Louis who was apparently unable to look away from his Sports magazine for a second.

 

“How you doing, Lou?” He called.

 

“Fine,” Louis replied, too fast.

 

Zayn twisted a bit, fingers brushing Harry’s thigh.             

 

“Haribo?”

 

“Wonderful,” he replied, not faltering in his fingertip-reading of the book in his lap.

 

“Right,” Zayn frowned a bit towards Liam.

 

“Harry’s selling his virginity on the internet,” the brown-haired man blurted, earning a glare from Niall and an elbow from Louis. “What?” He objected. “He is.”

 

Zayn’s brows lifted on his forehead; eyes assessing Louis again more carefully. He still wouldn’t look up from his magazine. He turned toward Harry instead.

 

“Auction?” He asked.

 

Harry cleared his throat, hand stilling.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How much are you up to?”

 

The other boy seemed to pale slightly.

 

“Fifteen thousand,” he whispered, face creasing fearfully.

 

“Right, I’m off, lads!” Louis slapped his magazine shut and jumped up, speed-walking to the door before anyone had the chance to call their farewells.

 

Zayn looked at Liam again.

 

“Louis doesn’t want to hear about it,” Liam explained.

 

“Oh yeah?” Zayn smirked softly, leaning back to cast his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I think it’s a nice idea, bro. I did that when I turned nineteen,” he shared. “Started off as a birthday dare and then got serious.”

 

Harry turned to face him, hands grasping the book in his lap.

 

“How much did you get?”

 

“Twenty grand,” Zayn shrugged. “Think most people knew I’m a kinky bastard and were just bidding for my reputation.”

 

“Oh. Oh, yeah,” Harry swallowed, realising that Zayn was far more experienced than him.

 

“Hey,” Zayn cuddled him a bit. “It doesn’t matter how much you’ve done. It’s not that different than a blind date, is it? If you really don’t feel like going through with it then just give them their money back,” he shrugged. “Nobody can force you to go through with it.”

 

Harry took a long, fortifying breath.

 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he attempted a smile.

 

“I think it’s brilliant,” Niall added. “Wish I could charge for my love-gun,” he mused.

 

“Never call your dick a love-gun again,” Liam pleaded with a shake of his head.

 

“So what’s Louis’ problem, then?” Zayn asked next.

 

Harry stroked Dennis beside him.

 

“He accused me of being a prostitute,” Harry relayed quietly, the shame of Louis’ accusation settling heavily in his chest.

 

“And he won’t talk to you?” Zayn questioned.

 

“Today is the first time I’ve seen him in a week,” Harry shared. “He only came because of you guys.”

 

“Hm,” Zayn nodded thoughtfully. “Don’t worry, Hazza, we’ve got your back,” he promised. “We’ll support you, yeah?”

 

Harry nodded.

 

“Yeah.”

 // 

“Dennis? For fuck’s sake! Dennis!” 

 

Harry had never lost his guide-dog. The animal was trained implicitly to stay with him; even when off the leash, and Harry only ever let him free when he was out for his morning run; Dennis his protector against stumbling on an unknown bump or falling in a hole.

 

But he’d let him off the lead fifteen minutes ago and he hadn’t come back, leaving Harry stranded in the park. Had someone taken him? Stolen him and bundled him in the back of a van?

 

“Dennis,” he whimpered quietly, biting his lip against tears as he unfolded his stick to feel his way across the grass.

 

It had started raining five minutes ago, Harry’s fear-frozen body soaking up the moisture until he was motivated to move. The grass was slippery and it made him feel uneasy as he crossed it to find a path to get his sneakers gripping against asphalt instead.

 

“Dennis!” He called again, hearing playful barks of other dogs and yells from children caught in the storm. “Please, buddy,” he whispered a quiet prayer, his free hand moving to splay out to sense anything which may harm him out of the realm of his guiding stick which he swung side to side.

 

The rain was pouring now; a rumbling bout of thunder making him shudder; the loud, stark clap of lightning jolting him in place.

 

“Fuck.”

 

He really was in trouble now.

 

He pulled out his cell-phone, voice- dialling the second number.

 

“You have reached the voicemail of Nialler, I can’t come to the phone right now so call back, dickhead.”

 

Harry sighed and voice-dialled the third number instead. After twelve rings, he hung up, chin dipping to his chest as he grimaced. _Fuck’s sake._    Anyone but _him_ . Maybe he could just wait and see if Niall or his Mum called him back. Maybe he could just keep looking and-

 

What sounded like the sky splitting in two had him requesting his first number with a jittery voice; hoping he’d selected the right option. His breathing was shallow and everything was sopping wet but he couldn’t leave without Dennis, he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to his working dog.

 

“Curly.” The greeting was civil, even if the nick-name was borne of fondness.

 

“L-Lou, please,” he stuttered, squeezing his eyes shut and gasping in air. “Help me.”

 

“Where are you?” Louis’ voice demanded with an urgent edge, no hesitation in his reply.

 

“The-the park. On C-Carnaby,” Harry breathed. “Dennis,” he added hopelessly.

 

“Be there in five,” Louis stated and the call ended.

 

Harry sank to his knees, coat tugged around himself even with it buttoned up. Every time the deafening crack of lightning split the air above him he shrunk into himself a bit more; hands cast outwards to feel for anything coming towards him-- friendly or otherwise.

 

Louis had told Harry he would be five minutes, but Harry knew the trip across town took three times as long, but he imagined Louis was racing to get there. He’d done that a few times when Harry had been stranded, too ashamed to call anybody else to admit his vulnerability.

 

Louis never judged him or chastised him for doing something-- even if some might deem it stupid-- he just swooped in and got Harry to safety, usually coddling him for a short time after whatever emergency he’d just experienced.

 

The thought of Louis coddling him now felt like a distant possibility. He stood true to his word in his promise to always be there to help him, but Harry knew Louis was still angry with him, not understanding his decision to give his virginity away to a stranger. Harry knew that Louis had lost his to his high school boyfriend-- a guy named Tarot that Harry had only met briefly since they went to different schools.

 

It had been before they’d been shoved in the cupboard together; before Louis had kissed him and Harry had kissed him back. Before Harry had ached to _always_  kiss him back.

 

“Harry?”

 

The voice was far off but it came closer, chanting his name in forewarning of the small body enveloping his with sudden, squeezing pressure.

“It’s okay,” Louis told him, which Harry knew. “I’m here now.”

 

His words were accompanied by the draping of something thick and warm over his shoulders, tugged around him and pinned in place with tight arms.

 

“What happened to Dennis?” Louis finally asked.

 

“I- I don’t know,” Harry stammered.

 

“Shh, okay,” Louis’ fingers slicked back his sodden hair, soothing him with an awkward caress over his forehead and temple but Harry didn’t care; he just curled into him harder and made himself small. “Come on, we’ll find him,” Louis promised. “Let’s try the warden’s office,” he suggested.

 

Harry had trouble getting to his feet; trailing slowly across the grass with Louis’ arms around him along with his blanket, warming him despite the material also wetting through quickly.

 

Another loud clack sparked above their heads, causing Harry to stumble.              

 

“Fuck,” he nosed into Louis’ neck with a shiver.

 

“Shh, come on now,” Louis soothed. “You’ve never liked storms but we’ve done this before, haven’t we,” he reminded.

 

Harry pressed closer, anyway. They _had_ done this before; once when they went camping and had split from the group in search of an ice-cream vendor which entailed a three-mile hike to the nearest village where they’d found a farm that sold produce. They’d gotten caught in a storm about a mile from the campsite, eventually plopping into their tent, soaked through and shivering from the cold until they’d gotten cuddled together in their shared sleeping sacks.

 

The warden’s office felt like a mile away, but his ears pricked at the familiar sound of barking.

 

“Dennis?” He whispered, feet moving more quickly as he shifted away from Louis’ embrace.

 

“Looks like it,” Louis let out a breath as Harry quickened forward.

 

Soon he was on his knees, welcoming an exuberant Dennis into his arms, the dog's body wriggling in his hold.

 

“Where did you go?” Harry asked him as the warden ushered them inside the office until the rain slowed down.

 

“He got stuck in the pond,” the warden, Amelie, told them. “We found him with his paws trapped in the mud like quicksand.”

 

Louis chuckled, leaning against the heater to get warm, fingers pushing his sodden fringe away.

 

“Had his moment of rebellion I reckon,” he joked lightly.

 

Harry settled on the floor with crossed legs, chin lifting when the patter of rain slowed right down.

 

“We best be off,” Louis told Amelie, thanking her for her assistance.

 

“Thank you,” Harry stood to hug the woman, holding open his arms until she moved into the embrace so he could close her into his body. “Thank you so much.”

 

“Take care,” she called as they ventured into the soft residue of rainfall.

 

Harry trudged to the car with Louis, Dennis hopping into the back and laying down obediently. He opened his mouth to say something, but Louis spoke first.

 

“We’ll get dried off at mine, yeah? I’ll take you back home later,” he added, not really waiting for a reply.

 

Harry nodded anyway.

 

// 

 

Dennis walked close by Harry’s leg as they entered Louis’ flat and refused to leave the bathroom while Harry showered and got changed. When Harry finally emerged in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Dennis sat beside him on the sofa, laying his chin on Harry’s knee.

 

“He’s giving you the doe-eyes, you know,” Louis murmured as he set a hot drink on the coffee-table.

 

Harry knew his way around Louis’ place as well as his own; counting the steps from place to place and guiding himself with his hands.

 

“Doe-eyes?” Harry asked, waiting for Louis to settle.

 

“He looks sorry,” Louis explained. “I think he feels guilty for losing you.”

 

“Dennis,” Harry addressed his animal gently. “This is not your fault, okay?”

 

Dennis let out a heartfelt sigh. Louis reached across to fuss him, fingers colliding with Harry’s as they clashed.

 

“Sorry,” Harry apologised.

 

 “So.”

 

Louis’ voice sounded brittle, his demeanour felt awkward somehow. He’d just saved Harry from a monster storm, but Harry hadn't forgotten their last words spoken in anger.

 

“So,” he replied, deciding to let Louis set the tone.

 

“You’re up to twenty-two thousand,” he commented with a swallow.

Harry heard it click in his throat, sensed him shifting to pick up his drink and then slurping it delicately.

 

 _Fuck_. The Auction. He should probably take it down. If today showed anything then it showed that he clearly wasn’t ready for sex with a stranger. He couldn’t even get himself home from the park in a storm; how did he ever hope to disrobe his body and lay it out bare for someone who knew nothing about him other than the fact he was blind and had never had sex before?

 

“M’not sure I’m gonna do it,” he mumbled.

 

“I hope that’s not because of what I said,” Louis’ voice ventured into the quiet, soft and small.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

“Because I was wrong to say those things,” he added quickly. “It’s your life and your body and it’s up to you how you-“

 

“I’m just sick of being treated like a porcelain doll!” Harry expressed, voice roughened with emotion. “I don’t break when you fuck me…I don’t feel differently about sex, about wanting it or-“ He swallowed. “Having it.”

 

“You might find someone who-“

 

“Twenty one years old,” Harry ground out. “I’ve kissed five boys since I was fifteen and none of them have wanted to fuck me.”

 

He felt Louis’ hand squeeze his thigh.

 

“You must be tired after today,” he changed the subject. “Do you want to sleep here?”

 

Harry wanted to curl up in bed with Louis more than he wanted anything else, but the burning anger of rejection and smarting pain of unrequited love sat uneasily within him, setting him on edge.

 

“I want to go home,” he whispered and the words must have shocked Louis because he took too long to answer.

 

“Okay,” Louis agreed quietly as Harry stood to rouse Dennis.

 

// 

 

“When are you going to tell him?”

 

Zayn walked beside Louis from the coffee-shop they occasionally met at before work; Louis heading to his architecture job and Zayn walking a further five minutes up the road for his cartoon strip in the newspaper job.

 

“Tell who what?” Louis asked, sniffing his macchiato-with double cream.

 

“Tell Harry that you’re jealous,” Zayn said it so plainly, like that was a known fact that Louis was dumb to question.

 

“What?”

 

Zayn rolled his eyes, his pretty dark lashes lifting and falling with the action.

 

“Come on Lou,” he coaxed. “We all know that you two are soulmates.”

 

Louis frowned, heart stuttering.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“The fact you haven’t slept with anyone since you broke up with your high school boyfriend.”

 

Louis scoffed.

 

“I’ll have you know-”

 

“Penetration?” Zayn cut him off, peering at him knowingly.

 

Louis flushed. So what? So what if he got by on hand jobs and blowjobs and not much else?

 

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Louis defended.

 "No?”

 

“No,” he shoved Zayn gently in the arm to make him fall out of step.

 

“That’s funny because I could swear that you haven’t been with anyone since you and Harry kissed, mate…”

 

Louis stopped dead in the street. He fought the urge to make this into something, knowing his reaction would only give him away, and yet he couldn’t lie to Zayn. Zayn looked into his soul with his delving brown eyes and he couldn’t be turned away from the truth. Zayn always saw the truth and wasn’t afraid to speak it aloud. Louis was afraid that once the truth had been spoken that it could never be contained again, and where did that leave him? Telling Harry his secrets and losing him forever? Because his secrets were the kind that could break a friendship.

 

He sighed, the heavy weight of indecision on his tiny shoulders.

 

“Harry wants to fuck a stranger,” Louis only said. “I can’t stop him.”

 

He started walking again, Zayn’s arm brushing his.

 

“Except you can,” he challenged. “And we both know it. So why haven’t you?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes and snorted.

 

“You think I’m even halfway good enough for a guy like Harry?”

 

Zayn narrowed his eyes.

 

“You’re the best guy for him, Lou,” he almost chuckled at the absurdity of Louis’ statement, but Louis was already shaking his head to disagree.     

 

“He said it himself- he wants someone patient and gentle and-”

 

“And what? You mean you’d just fuck him hard and forget him after?” Zayn asked starkly.             

 

Louis gave him a dark stare, before his features softened into something more anxious. He huffed.

 

“Look, what if I fucked it up?” he asked. “It’s a nice idea, right? Reality is different. I might ruin our friendship,” he worried. “And all of ours,” he added.

 

Zayn stopped, sipping his green tea.

 

“What makes you think you’d fuck it up?”

 

Louis gazed at him, blue eyes wide with desolation.

 

“It’s Harry,” he shrugged helplessly. “I can’t-” he paused to swallow, sipping his too hot coffee. “I can’t live without him, Zayn,” he admitted.

 

Zayn paused outside Louis’ workplace.

 

“Just think about what this means, Lou,” he begged. “If Harry goes through with this and some other guy gets to be his first...that’s your chance gone, okay? This is his way of challenging you. He’s begging you to wade in there and take ownership and if you don’t then—then he’s gone forever,” Zayn warned. “To some other guy who really _will_ fuck it up.”

 

Louis didn’t realise that Zayn had turned and walked away until one of his colleagues asked him if he was okay and if he wanted a smoke. He smiled and declined the offer of a cigarette, rushing into the building where he worked.

 

 // 

 

“This is getting stupid.” Niall was stretched out on the sofa while Dennis helped Harry carry out his tasks of washing and cooking.

 

“What is?”

 

“You’re up to thirty grand, mate,” Niall boasted. “Highest bidder is called K-Inky,” he called. “Sounds like a pervert.”

 

Harry screwed up his face.

“Should I take it down, do you think?”

 

“No way!” Niall objected. “You’ve got twelve days left and Louis hasn’t got his head out of his ass yet.”

 

Harry turned, his arms curled around his washing basket.

 

“This isn’t about Louis.”

 

Niall cackled.

 

“Sure, whatever you say, Styles.”

 

“It isn’t,” Harry insisted.

 

Niall arched a brow as Harry walked by him towards his standing clothes dryer.

 

“Harry, I know you’re in love with him,” Niall accused in the very softest voice Harry had ever heard him use.

 

He froze from where he’d dipped to reach for his first item to hang up, the wet cloth slipping from his fingers. Suddenly everything felt overwhelming. The stupid idea to sell his first time; the way Louis was still upset with him; the way he was too scared to tell Louis his real feelings. It all felt like a big mess and he didn’t know how to fix it without ruining everything. Withdrawing the advert would diminish his anxiety but then he couldn’t determine properly if Louis really did want him. If he left the advert up he was putting himself in the very real possibility of sleeping with someone he felt absolutely nothing for. And if he told Louis how he felt...he might lose him completely. There was no easy way out.       

 

He didn’t realise he had burst into tears until Niall’s arms wrapped around him comfortingly, his cheek resting on Harry's shoulder.

 

“Pull the ad an hour before it finishes,” he suggested. “At least you get to see how much they would have paid,” he smirked.

 

Harry laughed through his tears, sniffling them away.

 

A knock on the door had Niall moving to answer it.

 

“Oh, Nialler, hey,” Louis greeted as Harry panicked, cheeks burning with the embarrassment of being caught crying.

 

He made a quick bee-line to his room and crawled under the duvet.

 //

 

“The door was open,” a soft dip in the mattress joined Louis’ voice in the room.

 

Harry shifted.

 

“You okay?” Louis asked next.

 

Harry wriggled out from under the covers, lips swollen and eyes lined pink. He felt Louis’ fingers straightening out his hair.

 

“Growing your hair out?” Louis wondered.

 

Harry sighed.

 

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

 

Harry sat himself up, crossing his legs for stability while he waited for Louis’ words.

 

“Came to see you,” Louis said quietly, almost with confusion laced into his tone. 

 

“Thought you didn’t want to see me,” Harry replied.

 

“Well. I lied,” Louis admitted easily. “I was- _Jesus_ , I was hurt, okay? I was hurt that you’d made this monumental decision and I had no idea about it.”

 

Harry swallowed, emotion welling in his throat.

 

“That’s all?” He checked, fishing lightly for a _more_ that he dreamed of hearing.

 

“You know what else?” Louis’ tone changed from a thick rasp into a light, forced pitch as he moved on the bed with a bounce.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve never told you what you look like,” Louis shared.

 

Harry frowned.

 

“What?” He said again, confused this time.

 

“When you were thirteen you learned how to feel people’s faces,” Louis reminded him. “You learned my face by touch,” he smiled.

 

Harry’s breathing hitched; eyes dragging to him suspiciously even though they couldn’t focus.

 

“I did,” he confirmed.

 

Louis crawled closer, settling on his knees beside Harry’s thigh. He lifted Harry's hand, smiling as he dragged Harry’s thumb over his lips.

“That’s how I look when I’m happy,” he shared. “Mostly when I’m with you, but…”

 

Harry twisted a bit, cupping Louis’ face in both of his big hands and re-learning the contours and shapes, and even though he didn’t know anything about what made a human attractive; Louis felt like the most attractive person he’d ever met.

 

“I can see you,” he mumbled in a deep voice, tugging Louis to straddle his legs as he stretched them out to settle into his exploration, fingertips ironing out the creases in the corners of his eyes.

 

“You mean you miraculously gained sight?” Louis teased lightly.

 

Harry snorted.

 

“No. I mean- You’re light. When I go outside and the sun feels warm, I can almost see it,” he explained. “Everything is light instead of dark for a while. It’s like that with you,” he shared, thumb brushing gently though his eyelashes. “I can see how pretty you are.”

 

Louis dipped his chin, a shy smile dimpling his cheek as Harry rested his hands gently in his lap.

 

“Do me,” he invited simply, voice deep.

 

Louis’ hands settled on his jaw.

 

“You’ve got a sharp jaw, you know. Strong and handsome,” Louis described. “And your stubble is-” A swallow. “It feels nice, you know? It glistens in the light; makes you look edgy,” he smirked. “Like a vampire.”

 

Harry dimpled, lashes falling to his cheeks.

 

“And then there’s your dimples,” Louis’ thumbs found the dips before Harry’s smile faded. “Completely ruining your edgy look. But they’re breathtaking, Harry. All the tech girls at work rave about you, you know.”

 

Harry shrugged, biting his lips.

 

“Red lips,” Louis released his lower lip with his thumb. “Nice and full, kissable,” Louis ventured breathlessly, running his thumb-pad over the bow. “Sweet little bow up here, too. Big nose,” his tapped it with a giggle when Harry squeaked. “Lovely, high cheekbones. Very handsome.”

 

“And my eyes?” Harry asked, brows furrowing and lips pursing in question.

 

Louis smiled.

 

“Curly lashes like your hair,” he murmured. “And the kind of olive eyes you could get lost in.”

 

“I’m lost in them,” Harry joked dryly.

 

Louis chuckled; smoothing his thumbs over the arches of Harry’s brows. It took a long moment of just breathing for Louis to earn the courage to speak again.

 

“You’re beautiful, Harry,” he whispered, like it was a secret. “You’re too precious to be measured in money.”

 

Harry tilted his face into Louis’ palm, lips brushing his skin as his eyes squeezed shut and it felt like a thousand knives were embedded into his chest, hearing the words he’d only dreamed of hearing and yet they still weren’t enough. Louis might think him beautiful but he didn’t _want_ him; not in the way that Harry wanted Louis.

 

He wanted Louis’ hot tongue in his mouth and inside him, flicking deep. He wanted to hollow his cheeks around Louis’ thick heat and feel him spurt into his throat. He wanted their limbs tangled together; implicit trust forged between them as they tussled on the bed; bodies crashing together as they kissed and kissed until they were too hot to do anything but fuck. Harry wanted Louis to fuck him. Gentle and sweet at first, and harder after; his skin itching to get close, close, close.

 

“Will you show me?” he asked, voice papery thin with fear. Fear of rejection, fear of losing everything they had, fear of-

 

“You dickheads best not be fucking in here,” Niall strode into the bedroom and folded his arms across his chest; his presence having been forgotten by both men on the bed.         

Louis whipped his head around, untangling himself from Harry’s body.

 

“Er, no. Just having a chat,” he cleared his throat as Harry shifted, jeans a little tight around his crotch.

 

“Hm,” Niall eyed them suspiciously, lifting a brow. “Well, I made something to eat if you want to come and try it…”

 

“I’ve, er, I’ve got to go,” Louis announced as Harry heard Dennis trot into the room with an inquisitive bark.

 

Harry got himself up from the bed, brows furrowing.

 

“You’re going?” He asked softly.

 

“Yeah, I uh…I’ll talk to later, Curly,” Louis promised as Niall turned to stare at him. 

 

“If you two want me to go, then all you have to do is say so,” Niall mused.            

 

“No, you stay,” Louis assured, starting down the hall. “See you soon,” he murmured, Dennis following him to the door.

 

Niall turned to Harry once the front door was shut.

 

“What the hell was that?” He asked the taller boy.

 

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted as he followed Niall back to the kitchen.

 

 // 

 

“There’s a new bidder!”

 

Zayn coveted his phone as Harry sipped on his large hot chocolate. The Auction had four hours on the clock until it ended and Harry had asked his friends to keep him company. Niall had to work and Louis...well he still wasn't into the whole idea, so Harry didn’t expect him to come.

 

“What’s his username?” Liam asked from the arm-chair.

 

Zayn’s lips pulled into a grin.

 

“Tommo,” he said and Harry lifted his chin; ears listening out for the appearance of Louis, who he usually sensed coming before he reached the group.

 

“Louis’ here?” Harry asked, confused.

 

“No, the username of the high bid is Tommo,” Zayn repeated.

 

Harry frowned. Could someone have found out who his friends were? Was it possible that they happened to have the same name as Louis?

 

“How much?” He asked, throat dry.

 

“Fifty grand!” Zayn relayed, impressed. “Fuck!”

 

Harry licked his lips, feet fidgeting as he tried to get himself up out of the chair.

 

“You okay, H?” Liam asked.

 

“I need to-“ he swallowed. “I have to go,” he stuttered, grabbing Dennis’ leash and tugging him up.

 

“Alright, well if you need anything…” Liam extended.

 

“Actually yeah,” he hesitated with a frown. “Can you stop the Auction?” He asked. “Zayn, are you logged into my account?”

 

“Yeah,” Zayn’s voice gave away his surprise. “You want me to pull the plug?”

 

“Nobody is worth that kind of money,” Harry mumbled as he moved, Dennis leading him out of the coffee shop safely.

 

 //

 

Dennis didn’t know the city well but he was trained to cope with crowds of people and cars and the mad-dash cyclists that tended to appear on every corner.

 

Harry had been to Louis’ workplace a total of three times to meet him for lunch on the odd occasion or to drop something off; it wasn’t a place he felt comfortable visiting in case Louis’ peers judged him badly for having a friend like Harry, someone completely dependent upon him. And so, he tried to stay away.

 

But Louis wasn’t at the coffee shop and he wasn’t at home when Harry had caught the bus to check so that could only mean one thing. He was working late.

 

The office was mostly empty when he got up to the fifth floor; he could make out the few voices left in the large-plan room, remembering Louis’ location only vaguely and trusting Dennis to lead him to where he needed to go.

 

“Oh, Harry!” A female voice called out to him, a hand tightening around his forearm and forcing him to stop.

 

“Meredith,” Harry smiled politely, remembering the older woman’s voice easily.

 

“You remembered,” she simpered. “What brings you here?”

 

“Louis, actually,” he smiled wanly, biding his time.

 

“He’s been working late too much,” Meredith complained lightly. “Go and drag him out for dinner,” she begged.

 

“Of course,” he nodded, startling as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

 

“I’m glad you two finally got yourselves sorted out,” she chuckled as she drifted away.

 

Harry straightened his shoulders and had a sudden crisis of confidence. _What if it wasn’t Louis who_ _had bid the money? What if he was making the biggest mistake of his life? What shirt had he put on that morning and did it match his trousers?_ He grasped the fabric in his shaky fingers and hoped that it looked okay. He hoped _he_ looked okay. He hoped-

 

“Harry?”

 

His chin shot up at the call of his name, Dennis moving forwards towards the familiar figure while Harry straightened out his shirt and tried to comb jittery fingers through his hair.

 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself under his breath. _Fuck_ . What was he _doing_ ? He should turn around RIGHT NOW and-

 

“Everything okay?” Louis had moved from behind his desk to meet Harry in the middle of his office floor, apparently; one hand circling his arm and the other automatically sliding into his curls.

 

Harry nodded, a bit breathless and in a state of near-panic now.

 

He felt Louis shift; heard the jangle of Dennis’ collar as he received a fuss.

 

“I don’t-I’m not sure why I came,” he stammered.

 

“It’s okay,” Louis assured and Harry could hear a smile in his voice. “You don’t need a reason.”

 

Harry swallowed.

 

“I lied,” he blurted, but it was quiet and wispy. “I do have a reason.”

 

“Oh?” Louis asked, bemused.

 

“I came to ask you something,” he ventured, sliding Dennis’ lead onto his wrist so he could steady himself by grasping onto Louis somehow. He found his jacket and gripped it tightly.

 

“What did you want to know?” Louis asked, and it sounded soft; it sounded like he might already know the question.

 

“Did you-” He began with a furrow of his brows, licking his lips and taking a shaky breath. “Did you put a bid on me?”

 

Harry heard only his heart thumping wildly in his chest, like a stallion striving for freedom.

 

“I did,” Louis confirmed quietly, squeezing Harry’s arm.

 

“Fifty thousand?” Harry beseeched, awed.

 

He felt Louis shift.

 

“I get paid well for what I do,” he dismissed easily, clearing his throat a bit.

 

“Louis…”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Why?” Harry begged. “Why would you do that? You don’t actually want to _you know_ ,” he whispered, leaning closer to soften his voice, unsure how many (if any) workers were sitting close by. “You’re just bidding because of what you said…that you think I’m worth more than money.” He stated, then frowned when Louis didn’t reply to affirm his thoughts. “Right?”

 

“Actually, Curly,” Louis began in a suspiciously smooth voice that caused Harry to lean forward to delicately smell his hair for traces of cigarette smoke, finding none lingering there. “I do want to _you know_ ,” he admitted, sounding breathy if Harry was hearing right over the freight train that was his heart beat. “But I’m not paying for _that_ ,” he promised. “I’m trying to say something which I should have said a long time ago. When we were seventeen to be exact. And I’ve just-I’ve been too scared…”

 

Harry began to shake his head; tears coming to his eyes.

 

“I actually fucking love you,” Louis stated. “Quite a fucking lot. And I’ll pay whatever amount it takes to win your heart, too,” he posed. “Just-- give me a chance?” Louis asked. “And I _will_ show you,” he added, answering Harry’s question from the night in his room when Niall had interrupted them. “I’ll show you just how beautiful I think you are.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry began to cry, hands pulling Louis close only to hide his now flushed face and to calm the waves of shock radiating through his body. 

 

Louis slid arms around him, tightening him into his embrace easily; comforting Harry the way he always did-- perfectly, really-- no flaws to his approach. Harry sagged against him, burrowing his face into Louis’ neck until he had composure and then he subtly blew his nose; smiling shyly as Louis slid his hand over his jaw.

 

Louis’ lips were soft; hesitant but sweetly so as Harry leaned in to press closer; Louis grazing their mouths together slowly, as though he was afraid to start. Harry’s mind cast back to the cupboard; when he’d surged forward bravely with alcohol for courage; when they’d somehow synced without needing to practice. They knew each other inside out and Harry knew- he _knew_ that Louis’ words were true; he just wished he hadn’t been so afraid to speak them, because they mirrored the secret in his heart-- a secret he too had been afraid to set free.

 

“I love you, too,” he whispered as they pulled apart from the gentle kiss.

 

“Thank fuck for that,” Louis muttered, clearing his throat and stepping away which caused Harry to internally panic until Louis’ fingers threaded through his.

 

“Dare I ask why there’s a dog in the office?” Griffin McDonald, his boss, enquired as he approached the pair. 

 

“Service dog,” Louis answered while Harry tried to get his bearings. “Just leaving now, sir.”

 

“Alright then,” Griffin nodded. “Good work today Louis, take your boy out for a nice meal, eh?”

 

Louis smiled at his boss, squeezing Harry’s hand.

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

 // 

 

“You didn’t have to actually take me out tonight,” Harry complained as they climbed into a taxi after dinner at a very nice restaurant.

 

“My boss told me to,” Louis smiled, eyes going over Harry slowly as he settled beside him, nerves kicking up in his belly.

 

They may have kissed, may have even exchanged ‘I love you’s, but he still felt like Harry was getting the short end of the deal in dating him.

 

“What shirt did I put on?” Harry asked then.

 

“It’s pink and shiny,” Louis described. 

 

“And my black jeans?” He prayed.

 

“Yep,” Louis assured.

 

Harry hummed, leaning back in the seat. Louis set Harry’s hand against his thigh and twisted to play with his hair.

 

“How long are you growing it?” He wondered.

 

Harry dimpled, smirking.

 

“Not sure yet.”

 

“You do realise, if you’d let the Auction run it’s full course you could have ended up with an absolute stunner of a boyfriend,” Louis mused. “He might have been really good in bed, too…”

 

Harry leaned over and tilted his head onto Louis’ shoulder, Louis sliding his arm around his shoulders as he moved.

 

“It wasn’t _really_ about sex,” Harry mumbled.

 

Louis rubbed his arm. “No?”

 

“I guess I wanted to see if you cared enough to stop me,” he admitted quietly, curling closer in case his admission changed Louis’ mind in any way.

 

Louis huffed out a breath.

 

“I was jealous as all fucking hell, Curly,” he mused. “Don’t do that again, please.”

 

Harry smiled, inching closer. Louis thought he might climb in his lap next.

 

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Harry asked.

 

Louis pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

 

“Always,” he murmured.

 

//

 

Harry was an incredible kisser. Not much had changed in the four years since Louis had first kissed him back in the cupboard.

 

But his developed senses and lack of sight made him a very responsive partner. _Very_ responsive. And Louis loved to indulge in that, really.

 

“O-oh,” Harry gasped as Louis twisted two fingers into him, Harry’s arms clinging to his shoulders where he straddled his lap.

 

“Yeah?” Louis smirked knowingly. He pushed his fingers apart and then together again gently. 

 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed breathlessly with a ridiculously deep voice; one that had Louis twisting his digits to stretch his rim.

 

They had done this once before.  Had played a little; Harry taking Louis' fingers and then his tongue, but they hadn’t _done it._

Louis would happily finger Harry for the rest of his life to hear the filthy pleasured sounds ripped out of his mouth.

 

Harry nuzzled him, brushing their noses together to find the right angle before he kissed him and Louis tasted the urgency on his tongue; felt it in the way he twisted his hips to work himself over Louis' fingers.

 

“Can we?” Harry whispered against Louis’ lips. 

 

Louis suckled his swollen lower lip, thumb gliding over his cheek.

 

“If you want to,” Louis murmured back. 

 

“Do _you_ want to?” Harry asked, fumbling hands finding the parts of Louis' skin he wanted to touch. 

 

“I do, beautiful,” Louis assured. “No rush,” he added softly after.

 

Harry ground his hips down to fuck himself on Louis’ fingers.

 

“Rush,” Harry muttered, chest flushing as he gasped for air again, choking out his desire.

 

Louis guided him, let Harry move at his own pace while his body accustomed to the new sensation.

 

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing his flopping fringe back, “Is this good for you? Do you want to lay down?” 

 

Harry shook his head and parted his lips, eyes squeezing shut when he paused for a moment and Louis knew he must feel impossibly full-- knew he must be overwhelmed by the weird sensation which would soon give way to pleasure.

 

He captured Harry’s lips and kissed him slowly; teasing his tongue and licking into his mouth when Harry made a broken sound, a lot like a moan. He sank down at that, and Louis could feel the heightened thunder of his heart as he pressed himself close.

 

“I’m so glad it’s you,” Harry whispered, pressing a kiss mostly over Louis' mouth. “Lou, you feel—”

 

He lifted himself up and eased down again slowly, relishing the thick burn; if his dimpled, breathless smile was anything to go by.  Louis reached out to stroke over his chest and belly; wrapping a firm hand around Harry’s own erection.

 

“Been hiding this haven’t you?” Louis teased, a little breathless himself.

 

Harry let out a singular throaty bark of laughter, lifting up again.

 

“Shh,” he giggled quietly, fingers grasping Louis' shoulders, lifting momentarily to tuft Louis' hair.

 

Louis hummed as Harry again sank back onto him and he flexed his hips as Harry sighed contently. 

 

“Oh,” Harry bit his lip, stilling to see if Louis would repeat the move. 

 

“Good?” Louis checked as he bent his knees to get his feet flat to the bed.

 

Harry shifted too, nodding eagerly.

 

“Really good.”

 

Louis kissed his shoulder, then in between his pecs, before thrusting gently upwards.

 

“Oh wow,” Harry mumbled, earning a breathy laugh from Louis causing Harry to search out his smile with his thumbs               

 

“Still okay up there?” Louis checked. 

 

“Didn’t know you could talk during sex,” Harry admitted. “Didn’t know you could laugh...”

 

Louis lifted both his hands and pressed them to his chest.

 

“We can do whatever you like, Curly,” he promised, raising his hands one by one to kiss each palm.

 

Harry began a tentative rhythm, brows furrowing after a few bounces.

 

“Maybe you should take over,” he whispered.

 

Louis smiled, kissing him as he leaned forward; arm securing around his waist tightly as he carefully moved to his knees, laying Harry back on the bed with tender care.

 

Harry's legs instinctively wrapped around him but Louis spread his arms out and leaned in to kiss his skin, hips rocking in the gentlest motion while he kissed Harry’s mouth for the longest time.

 

“Lou,” Harry broke away to beg, fastening his arms around Louis’ shoulders.

 

“Talk to me,” Louis murmured, deepening his strokes. 

 

Harry’s eyes were half open, lids hung low as his bright lips parted to let out breaths of disbelief at what he was feeling.

 

“More?” he asked hesitantly, lips bitten between his teeth once more.Louis slowed his tempo but sharpened his thrusts; only enough to give Harry the more he had asked for without hurting him.

 

He gathered him close, balancing his weight on one arm to run a palm down his curved back; Harry crying out and arching his hips as Louis pressed a hand to his lower back to hold him in place while he thrusted deep three times; staying there just to hear Harry’s whimper. 

 

He worked his hand over Harry’s heat as he flexed his hips in shallow drags, Harry gasping and throwing his head back at the added sensation.

 

“That!” He cast throatily, body abandoned to pleasure. “Lou—I...”

 

Louis felt the way he tightened around him; muscles fluttering beyond his control as Louis stroked him through his hot, spurting orgasm.

 

He would never forget the look on Harry’s face in the moments leading up to his release-- the screwed-up expression of impossible intensity; followed by the equally awed glow of relief, lips tugging into a satisfied smile that hinted at his dimple.

 

Louis might be able to live off that look alone.

 

“Lou?” Harry’s voice was incredibly deep as his fingers wrapped around his wrist.

 

Louis cold feel the gentle aftershocks in the quiver of his muscles, still gripping Louis inside his body.Louis shifted. 

 

“Yeah?” he leaned up to place a loving kiss to Harry’s dry, swollen lips.

 

“You’re still hard,” he stated softly, breath catching. 

 

Louis eased out of him gently, pressing a kiss against his smooth chest.

 

“I’m good,” he promised.

 

Harry’s hand tightened on his wrist.

 

“Can I touch you?”

 

Louis flicked his eyes over the splayed, sated boy and nuzzled closer into his side.

 

“If you want to,” he murmured. 

 

Harry twisted to reach, the backs of his fingers brushing down Louis’ belly.

 

His brows furrowed as he felt sticky residue, fingers curiously tracing his ridged heat.

 

“Hmm,” he hummed in his throat, digits tightening around him and starting to stroke.

 

Harry kissed him, his rhythm a little jerky; pulling gasps from Louis’ lips when he felt he was about to fall, and then tempering out into soft sighs when Harry didn't _quite_ get him there on the next stroke. Harry pushing against him and kissing him deeply had him shooting over both their bodies; their breath and skin mingled in their closeness. 

 

Harry went soft in his arms, curling into him tightly.

 

“I’m glad it was you,” he whispered again.

 


End file.
